Chapter Text
White couldn't tell you what had happened in the last 45 minutes.
Adrenaline is still strumming through his body, making it impossible to collect his scattered thoughts. All he is able to think about is that Sean is safe - they are both safe.
White vaguely remembers hearing gunfire inside the garage before his memory blanks, until another one manifests and he sees red staining his fingers where he touched Sean's arm. Just the thought of it makes bile rise in his throat, and he wants to reach out to the man seated in front of him but his body feels like molasses and his mind won't compute the request.
He came to the shop to see him. To talk to Sean and try his best to make him understand the fucked up situation. He had been prepared for a fight - had mentally prepared himself for the all-consuming pain of Sean turning him away after the truth was unraveled - and he thought he'd prepared well. He thought he had imagined every possible outcome of the reveal, and yet nothing had prepared him for what he encountered as he walked up to the garage.
Until today, White had been convinced that his flight instinct was much greater than his instinct to fight. But while he was unable to remember exactly what had transpired in the last short hour, he knew that something in himself had made it possible for him to enter the garage and get Sean out of there.
White’s right arm and hip hurts when he tries to move closer to Sean where he is leaning against the cemented wall of the building. The pain makes another memory appear in his head: the feeling of Sean limply holding onto his waist as they drove off on Black’s bike and how the strength in which he was holding on to him lessened by the minute. He remembers feeling like Sean was about to fall off any second. White recalls the all-consuming fear he felt at the realization. The fear that he just went through whatever happed inside the garage, just for Sean to bleed out on their way to safety.
He vaguely remembers the fear finally catching up to him then, making it hard to breathe. Oxygen not flowing as it should, and white spots clouding his vision. He thinks he must have slowed the bike down, but the pain in his side suggests that they might have fallen off at some point.
He can't be sure though, because the next thing he remembers is this, right here.
Sean sitting against the gray wall with his head pillowed in his arms. His breathing is harsh, and the window at the end of the desolate hallway allows just a sliver of light to fall on them - just enough light for White to see the darkening of Sean's right jacket sleeve.
Another bout of nausea hits him as he comes to realize that it's blood. Sean is still bleeding.
This kicks White into movement again, and the fog in his brain vaporizes suddenly. He needs to stop it, needs something to compress the wound. He tries to think rationally and finally shrugs off his sleeveless jean jacket - no, not yours, it's Black's - before he moves to remove his tank top. The movement causes pain to shoot from his right elbow, but he bites his toungue and keeps himself from making any noise except a harsh exhale. Once the tank top is off he gathers all his strength and finally moves closer to Sean.
He needs to be closer. Not just because he needs to tend the wound on Sean's arm, but because he feels a physical ache at having the other man so close but not touching him.
When White shuffles closer, he sees Sean fold further in on himself. He chalks it up to the trauma of getting shot at but when he places a soft hand to Sean's elbow close to where his head is pillowed, Sean swiftly moves away. White is shocked by the harsh movement, but what really hurts is the fierce look on Sean’s face as their eyes finally connect. No, eye - White is suddenly made aware of the damage to Sean's delicate but strong features, and tears well up at the sight of the right side of his face swollen shut and colored by purple and blue like a sick, twisted artwork.
"Don't fucking touch me."
Sean's eyes look ice cold and White feels chills spread across his skin at the lethal tone of his voice. Never in the months they've known each other has White heard Sean like this. He got used to his harsh words, angry bickering, and annoyed comments, but this - the darkness coloring his eyes, and the fear coloring his voice is new.
It's terrifying.
"I-," White begins, his hand instinctively twitching as he feels the need to reach out again. The need to remove the hurt on that beautiful face and to soothe the pain that must be coursing through Sean's body.
"Your arm is bleeding, I need to stop it," he tries then.
White has become well versed in trauma throughout his life. He still remembers his fear of touch after the night Black was jumped and beaten, and he remembers the need to be alone after the fire - the need to feel in control by himself. But he also remembers the need to be comforted. The hidden need for someone to hold him, to put his broken pieces back together and hold him as he wanted to tear himself apart.
So he reaches out again, slowly as to not scare Sean again. "I know you don't like it, but you're bleeding and we need to stop it, Sean."
Sean's eyes meet his again for a short second, and this time he seems resigned—empty—as he moves his head so it hits the back of the wall, before moving his eyes away from White, looking blankly into the distance. He keeps his eyes elsewhere as White moves closer again, tugging at Sean's green jacket, before softly dragging the garment down over his injured arm. Sean makes no move to help, vacantly looking out of the window behind White, but he allows White to softly move his elbow so it slips out of the bloodied sleeve.
White holds his breath as it slips away, scared of what he's about to see and a breath of relief leaves him as he realizes Sean's luck.
It's just a graze. The bullet left an angry, bloodied mess of the outside of his arm and it looks painful, but not deadly. As long as White can keep it from getting infected and sew it together as soon as possible, he's pretty sure Sean won't need to go to the hospital.
He's worried about the cleanliness of his tank top, but ultimately realizes he has no other option so he folds up it carefully before he moves to tie it around Sean's arm. He's careful not to touch the other man too much, keeping his touch as soft as he can, but as he starts applying pressure to the knot he's made Sean moves away with a hiss.
"I'm sorry, I-," White begins, trying to take a hold of Sean's other hand in a show of affection. He's shrugged off again at the motion, and Sean doesn't spare him a look as he says sternly, "just get it over with."
White nods to himself, once again taken aback at the harsh tone, before he takes a deep breath and tightens the knot as quickly as he is able to. He can tell that Sean tries to be as unaffected as possible, but the other man can't help the loud groan that leaves him as the pain probably intensifies. As soon as White finishes double knot—making sure the cloth is secured with a final pull—Sean moves away again, leaning over on his uninjured arm. As far away from White as he can.
"You left me," Sean suddenly says then, voice rough and watery. "Why did you come back?"
White sees the uncertainty in Sean's eyes—sees the fear—and he wants it gone. The last time he looked into those eyes they were filled with love. Smiles created wrinkles like crow feet next to the dark brown orbs, and White hates the uncertainty he sees in them now. It’s like Sean doubted that White would come back —like Sean actually thought he had lost him forever.
It hurts to see Sean's insecurities like this, out here in the open. It hurts knowing that someone as strong as Sean, someone who's been through so much, still doubts White's feelings enough to believe that he wasn’t worth coming back for. Like Sean wasn't the first thing on White's mind when Black took each and every part of his life back without any regard to White and the life he'd come to consider his own.
None of this belongs to you, White.
Sean's reaction is confusing as much as it is hurtful, though. White thought that the way they left things and the affection they shared in those hours they spent together at the abandoned building would have left Sean confident that White would meet with him the next morning. And he understands that when he didn't, Seen probably worried about him, and got scared that someone from Tawi's gang might have caught up to him.
But White finds it odd for Sean to word it like that. You left me. It doesn't sound like fear of White leaving, but anger at knowing that he did. Like White left and made it seem like wasn't coming back again.
White thought he made it clear where they stood, and he honestly thought Sean knew how much their relationship meant to him.
"What do you mean?" White asks then, wanting to understand where Sean's mind is and reassure any uncertainty that seems to have grown in the other man, "of course I'd be back."
White expects Sean to drop his hard exterior and his guarded body language, but he doesn't. Instead he flinches slightly at his words.
"Fuck you, Black," he grits out eventually, and White doesn't miss how Sean used his brother's name. The name Sean hasn't uttered in days, leaving White to believe that Sean was starting to understand.
The one thing that made White feel like his betrayal wasn't as grave as it is.
It hurts to hear the words. It breaks something inside of him, and there's a hint of anger in his chest. Like he feels betrayed that Sean has yet to figure it out. After their talk on the windowsill last night White was sure that Sean at least knew that the Black he knew now was different.
So White moves closer, once again trying to reach out to Sean. "Isn't what I'm doing clear enough to you?" he asks, hoping that Sean will take his help as proof of his intention to be there for him. Sean only looks at him. Not sparing him any words, just another blank look. No, not blank. Vacant. Like he didn't hear him or refuses to acknowledge him at all.
"We can't stay down here forever," White says then, agreeing with himself to let Sean have the night to think about things. They both need to relax, get some sleep, and allow the adrenaline to leave their bodies so they can talk without hurting each other further.
White makes it onto shaky legs and walk over. "Let's go upstairs, Sean, let's get some sleep."
Sean doesn't offer White any help as he tries to get him up from the floor, feeling like dead weight as White manages to pull him up to a standing position. Sean is heavy against his side as he walks them towards the stairs leading up to the floor where they left the tent. White is hoping it's still there. Untainted, unmoved.
When they reach the landing of the third floor the tent looks just like it did when they left it, and White exhales in relief. He manages to get a stumbling Sean inside and lays him down carefully against the soft blankets. Sean has his face turned towards him, but it's like he's looking right through White—like he's not able to focus— and even though it hurts, White tries his best to be understanding, not forcing Sean to say anything as he checks on the makeshift bandage he made before covering Sean with the blanket placed on the ground where White slept last night.
It will be an uncomfortable night without the added layer, but White can see the way Sean shivers where he lays next to him so he tucks the fabric close to Sean's body and just looks at him.
His face looks somehow worse now. The light in the tent creates long shadows on his face that makes the damage look even more nasty and White desperately wants to reach out. He doesn't though, stopped by the fear of Sean moving away, not accepting his comforting touch.
"Who hurt you, Sean?" he whispers, so low that he's scared Sean might not have heard him. He knows he did though when Sean's body goes rigid and his head flinches to face away from White's direction.
White tries to reach out again, wanting some—any—form of contact, but Sean moves further away and turns so he's laying on his side, facing away from White completely.
Tears spring to White's eyes. They burn and White hates the feeling of embarrassment that fills him. His brother’s words taunts him.
You're still a fucking crybaby.
Like it isn't a perfectly normal reaction when his heart feels like it was torn from his chest at Sean's indifference and anger towards him. Like it's not a normal reaction when he had honestly thought Sean would accept him with open arms when they met, and that the other man—at least until he managed to gather enough courage to tell him—would hold him close and soothe the ache in his heart.
Seeing Sean like this, so scared and fragile, is heartbreaking and White finally allows the evening to truly dawn on him. He'd been so hyped up on nerves before he left for the garage, so scared of Sean's reaction to the truth about who he is, but he'd also been needy. Black had told him to stay away, but after only a few hours and after the talk with his mom, White had desperately needed Sean's comfort. He had needed him to be there to hold all his broken pieces together. He needed Sean to be there for him as he took inventory of his own feelings.
White just lost his life. As soon as Black came back, White lost the only thing that kept him sane, and until now, he had tried to stay strong, tried to keep it all inside—tried to keep one small part of this whole charade up.
But he was never Black, and he would never be Black. He was only able to fake it at a surface level. He'd tried his best, and while it seemed like Sean still hadn't put the pieces together—not correctly anyways —he fooled no one.
No one but himself.
He'd gotten too caught up in the game, felt too safe in the new life he was leading. He realizes he had actually managed to fool himself into thinking things could just stay the same forever.
He had momentarily forgotten that his new life had an expiration date.
Sean's breath evens out next to him, but White is left staring at his back as it rises and falls. The red slowly seeping through the grey tank top tied to his arm is worrying, but White doesn't know what else he can do other than allow Sean to keep sleeping.
After looking at Sean, making sure he has fallen asleep and isn't in any immediate danger, White walks over to the window ledge he'd sat on with Sean just last night. He doesn't sit facing the outside this time though, rather sitting down facing the tent. Inside the tent it felt suffocating, like the air was turning heavy and his chest wouldn’t expand enough to soak up oxygen. Still, he couldn't make himself turn his back on the man sleeping in there. He needed to know he was ok.
Everything was so different last night. Just the two of them, skin damp from sweat after holding each other close in the suffocating air of the tent, their breaths mingling through chaste kisses. When White closes his eyes he can still see the perspiration at Sean's hairline, and the red, puffy flesh of his kiss-bitten lips. Sean's eyes had been so soft that night, so filled with compassion and fondness, and he had seemed happy. White too, had felt happiness in every pore of his skin. Giddy with it—the feeling of knowing that not only were your feelings reciprocated, but they were deeper than imagined.
Last night was longing stares, cheeky smiles, and innuendos. It was White leaning on Sean's shoulder as they watched the world move underneath them, bathed in the yellow glow from streetlights. It was hands reaching for hands, thumbs stroking lovingly over fingers, and truths shared. And omitted.
It was love.
But it’s not like that today. And White has the unnerving feeling that there is something more going on than just trauma from the shootout. Sean seemed scared of him and after their night together White was sure Sean would never shut him out like this again.
Suddenly it feels like they had taken two steps forward and ten steps back.
White shakes his head at the realization he's made this all about himself. Like Sean isn't allowed to handle this however he needs. Like White has any right to feel insecure just because he isn't Sean's first priority right now.
He hated himself for it. And the way tears still threaten to fall whenever he blinks.
He is suddenly alerted to the sound of movement inside the tent and he wants to walk over there, to check on Sean, but decides to stay put. When White can see Sean stand up and move for the entrance through the thin material of the tent he freezes up, not sure whether Sean would want him around when he walks outside. Fear and uncertainty forces White to turn around facing the outside, pretending that he wasn't looking over Sean like a worried parent.
He feels more than hears Sean coming closer, the hairs on his arms standing on end as he feels Sean slowly move to sit down next to him.
White looks as Sean one-handedly extracts a cigarette from his chest pocket and when Sean places the cigarette between his lips he can't help staring at his cheeks as they hollow with every inhale. The smoke he lets out wafts around them and leaves a hazy veil on Whites's vision, but Sean's black eye still stands out. A stark contrast to the rest of his face. Again White feels his hand twitch with the instinct to reach out, but he keeps himself from doing so, thinking back to Sean's reaction earlier.
"Wha-," White begins, but his voice breaks as Sean's eyes flit to his, finally looking at him. "What happened back there, Sean?" White finishes, and he hates the way his voice shakes when he finally says it.
Sean scoffs at the question, but it comes out as more of a groan. "Tawi," he answers shortly as if it explains everything, and White supposes it kind of does.
Sean stubs out the cigarette he'd been sucking on and immediately fishes out another one before lighting it and placing it between his lips.
White doesn't understand. Why did the others leave? If Tawi's people started firing as soon as they arrived, then why is Sean's face looking like he got into a fight?
White is unable to hold himself back this time, and he places his hand on Sean's battered cheek. Sean flinches away slightly, but then his body seems to reconsider before he stays put. His eyes soften slightly and a harsh exhale escapes him as his cheek nuzzles into White's palm.
"What happened to your face?" White asks carefully, softly stroking the swollen skin. He needs to know what Tawi did - needs to know who hurt him.
At his question, Sean's eyes turn ice cold again and he moves away quickly, getting up from his position in the window before looking back at White. Gone is the soft look and back is the dark daggers he'd been sending him earlier.
"Fuck you, Black," the man bites out, breath coming out in harsh puffs. Sean looks around the room and White's heart sinks at how he looks so much like a caged animal looking for an escape route.
"I don't understand," White says then, trying to reach for Sean again. The other man is breaking apart in front of him and White feels helpless. He wants to hold him, shield him from anything bad that might have happened, and soothe the pain coloring his face.
He tries to move closer again, but Sean backs away further. "What the hell do you want, Black!"
The sound of Sean's outburst reverberates in the empty building and White worries for a second about the sound traveling all the way to the guards outside of Tawi's storage house, but what's more concerning is Sean's outburst.
"I-," White begins, but the surprise of Sean's outburst leaves him unable to speak. I want you to be ok. I want to hold you. I want you to still want me.
Sean deflates, looking bone-tired. "What, Black? You want me to thank you for saving me?" A deprecating laugh leaves Sean and White hates the look on Sean's face. "I asked you to stay and you said you didn't want to see me again, so why are you even here!"
White swears his heart stops beating as realization hits. Dread, and anger filling his body.
Black.
Sean must have met Black.
"You should have just let me die in there," Sean says then, voice resigned, and White flinches at the way Sean's voice breaks on the last word.
That sets White into motion again, moving fast to grab a hold of Sean, shaking him. "Don't fucking say that!" he yells.
He grabs the collar of Sean's jacket, forcing their eyes to meet. Sean seems surprised at White's outburst, but he refuses to meet his eyes for more than a few seconds before he looks down. "You don't get to fucking say that, Sean!"
White feels a tear escape his eyes, "don't ever fucking say that."
Sean cries then, too. A sob leaves him as he suddenly crumbles in White's arms, his body encapsulating White's smaller frame, holding on tightly to White's sleeveless jacket. White feels ragged puffs of air on his neck as Sean breaks.
They stand there, two broken souls holding on to each other. Trying to stop their broken pieces from crashing to the floor.
White cries for the both of them. He cries for Sean, who can never catch a break and has spent the day thinking he lost yet another person he cared about. And he cries for himself. For not being allowed to be there for Sean. For losing the life he'd come to love. He cries in anger. Because Black tried to ruin the best thing in his life right now.
"I'm not Black," White sobs then, clinging to Sean harder. He can't have Sean thinking he'd been the one who told him to stay away, and the need to tell him felt suddenly too strong. At his words Sean freezes in his arms, but White doesn't let him move away. "I'm not Black."
White doesn't know if it's the fear of rejection that does it or if it’s his anger at Black, but he can't stop crying and his hand moves to hold Sean's head in comfort, fingers brushing through the strands at the nape of his neck. Knowing that he's there and that White is able to touch him like this helps more than he can describe.
He feels Sean try to move back again, but he clings on tighter, scared of what he might see when their eyes connect. He holds onto him tighter, no longer able to worry about Sean's wounded arm, and he hides his face in the crook of Sean's neck. He leaves wet kisses there as he tries to explain. "I wanted to tell you, but I just-," he begins, but a sob wracks through him and cuts him off. "I'm sorry."
Sean pushes at White then, forcing them apart. He looks wrecked. Face swollen and tears making their way down his cheeks.
"I'm not Black," White says again, looking straight at him. "I swear, I would never hurt you.”
He wants, no, he needs Sean to understand. He needs Sean look at him with love in his eyes again, and not the scared, unsure look he is giving him now. He can see the confusion in Sean's eyes and he feels wrung out as he lowers his head, "I promise you, I never wanted to hurt you."
Sean just looks at him, and White feels the piercing weight of his eyes on him. He feels hopeless. The secret is out. He's not Black. Has never been. Everyone could tell something was different, they just didn't know this was even a possibility because to Black, White wasn't even worth mentioning.
From the corner of his eyes, White can see Sean moving. For a second he thinks Sean might leave, walk out, and never come back. But he realizes that Sean has taken a seat one the windowsill again. A new cigarette in his hand.
"Explain", is all he says as he gestures to the space next to him in an open invitation. White walks over on shaky legs, tears still drying on his cheeks, and his heart hammering in chest.
He takes a deep breath when he's finally seated and spills it all. The life he stole but started feeling too comfortable in. The terrifying realization that Black was someone he no longer recognized. How scary it was in the beginning, to pretend to be someone so reckless. How Black came back and suddenly wanted his life back, forcing White to give up his new reality, his new friends, and all his new relationships.
He tells Sean how intrigues he was from the start, and how he found it the hardest to keep the act up around him. How he had tried so hard to make Sean understand that he wasn't Black, but had been too scared to let him know out for fear of getting rejected once the truth came out. He tells him how Black took back his phone and forced him to stay away from the garage, leaving White with no way to contact Sean.
The other man just listens. Sean doesn't comment on anything, and his eyes are cast forward throughout White's monologue, making it impossible for White to read him. When White feels like he has bared his soul enough for a lifetime, he takes a shaky breath before he lets his head fall forward.
He feels drained, waiting for the inevitable fall when he suddenly feels a hand on his head. Fingers lightly brush through his hair, a soothing motion that has new tears forming in his eyes. He looks up to meet Sean's eyes and they are glassy as they look back. White wants to reach out.
Hold him, love him.
"I believe you," Sean says after minutes of silence, his voice soft. The care and warmth is back in his eyes. Not like their last evening together, but there. "I believe you, but I-," he begins, not able to finish his sentence. "I just- I don't care that you lied to me, I- I just need some time."
White nods at this. He understands if it's too much. "I understand."
"I don't-," Sean continues, then, trying to sort his feelings. "What Black did, it hurt me a lot, and I need some time to get over it." Sean sounds scared as he says it. Like he’s afraid of White leaving him just because he needs time. So White moves closer, and takes one of Sean's hands in his, stroking over the battered knuckles.
They sit like that for a long time. White isn't sure how long they spend sitting there with the moon as their only witness, holding each other, trying to soothe each other's pain, but eventually he feels Sean yawn against his shoulder and starts to move him off of him.
"Sean, let's get some more sleep".
Sean nods shortly against his shoulder and allows White to lead him back to the tent. He's heavy against Whites side, and when they get to the tent and White lowers Sean down onto the make-shift bed they've made, Sean doesn't let him go. He keeps a hold on White's hand and he gestures for White to lay down in the space where Sean slept earlier. It doesn't feel right, not until he lays down and Sean moves closer, laying on his good side facing him, aligning their bodies.
White moves his arm to pillow Sean's head, careful to not disturb him too much and he tries to even out his breathing, listening for the tap, tap, tap of Sean's heart so they can sync up.
"Sean," he whispers shakily into the darkness that surrounds them. He needs to know for sure.
"It was Black, wasn't it?"
He's afraid of the answer, but he already knows. Tawi's guys wouldn't waste time on beating them up when all they wanted was for the gang to disappear completely.
Sean says nothing, but the way he instinctively goes rigid against him tells White everything he needs to know.
Sean says nothing, but White still breaks. Soundless tears cascade down his temples as he tries to focus on the dark roof of the tent.
Sean says nothing, but he's there. He's touching White, allowing him to be there for him.
It's something.
It's hope.